In the original, it's a Kansai accent... so the translators went with "rural eastern-US" as a replacement. Sort of.
Get out your AnimEigo dubs (the good ones, not BGC or UY) and listen to the voice actors who aren't trying to sound generic-middle-class-American - that's close enough.
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."
- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012
I'm partial to the "unintentionally Canadian" or "me accent is slipping" dubs from Ocean back in the day. Really jarring when Girl-Ranma goes from "tough generic North American" to "Woman impersonating Bob and Doug Mackenzie."
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''
-- James Nicoll
I genuinely struggle to tell the difference. Only a few of the really oddball American tones stick out.
Either way, I dug up the dub and took a shot at it. After trying to gun that ear worm of an OP from my brain.
Anyway.
Quote:Kohran mumbled to herself as she prepped the Highway Star.
“Nobody gonna take my head
I got speed inside my brain.”
It wasn’t exactly designed with user friendliness in mind. Maybe it would’ve been better to use Lebia’s. Well, too late to worry about it. She double checked the time, allowing for a safe warmup period for the engine without burning too much fuel.
Another thirty three seconds.
Her fingers tapped on the handlebars along with the beat of the song she was mumbling. She was begging to just go. The bike was whispering in her ear, goading her to just fire it up and blaze into the darkness.
It was a dirty, scuffed, rattling, living thing that seemed to speak right to her soul.
Still, she needed to get a few final details, since he was the only one not actually doing anything. She dialled his phone with her free hand.
“Hey. It’s Kohran.”
The stunned silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes.
“If their plan doesn’ work I’m going to be pickin’ you up on the Highway Star an’ I need to know a few things first. I need your shutdown times, your drag, your inertia...”
“I’m sorry I don’t have a calculator right now.”
The answer was equal parts caustic and absolutely terrified.
"I need you t’ stop pretendin you're flesh ‘n’ blood ‘n’ use that computer brain of yours, boy!”
“Ah...”
“You know how long the fuel feed line is. If you cut the fuel supply, how soon until the engine dies? And how soon after that do you lose hydraulics? Run the numbers!“
There was a pause. She could hear him mumbling the calculations to himself.
“Five seconds. Then another three seconds.”
“It’s not back-driven by the transmission?”
“No. only the power turbine is. The pump’s on the accessory drive.”
“Alright. Now, what’s your mass? And what’s your drag force, as a function of your speed?”
The Reynolds number of the car going at that speed was large enough that the coefficient of drag could be taken effectively as a constant, that gave a simple enough equation to relate the drag force to the square of the velocity. And Mackie had to know those numbers, how else could he have made sure it was aerodynamically stable at top speed?
He couldn’t have been that reckless, could he? She decided that was one question she didn’t want an answer to.
“2.25 tons. And .2025.”
“Good.”
She offered the data to Lebia’s node, where it was graphed and processed and added to the Tachikoma’s calculations. Another pair of variables to add to a very complex equation.
“An’ remin’ me t’ smack Jet for not teachin’ you proper design discipline when we’re through.”
Kohran cut the line before he could answer.
It was time. She was shivering as she activated both fuel pumps.They whined to life, building pressure. The ignition system clicked on, electronics completing a quick self-test. The starter button latched under her finger, motor chattering as it cranked the engine over.
Her cry of joy was drowned out by a thousand chainsaws clearing their throats at once. It was an explosion of noise that sent people diving for cover. She tickled the trigger throttle, racing the engine to build heat and circulate oil. It responded with a wall of noise, chase by gunshot backfires than rang back off the walls. It made her smile as she placed a hand against the fuel tank, feeling the living heartbeat of the idling engine.
“I know you’ve got soul.”
------
All KJ could hear was the roar of the wind blasting past, a turbulent drumming on the sides of his helmet drowning out the noise of the engine between his legs. The engine noise had been blasted out the exhaust and left behind in the tunnel. The Stilleto was alive beneath him, kicking, bucking and squirming off the little imperfections in the tunnel floor.
A solid punch kicked the bike hard into the air. For a few heartstopping moments it felt like it was going ballistic, taking off like the missile it was painted to be. His body went light in the saddle - an instant of zero-g. His mind locked on the instant, his body waiting for the inevitable crash.
It crashed down onto its springs a heartbeat later, spinning tyres scrabbling to regain traction once more. A vision of himself cartwheeling over backwards in a ball of flaming debris flashed through his mind as the bars tried to wrench themselves free from his hands. The shock moved back through him, through the frame, then out behind as it finally found grip and powered forwards with its second wind.
For a moment, he recalled the Song of the Sausage creature, and had to fight not to burst out laughing.
At 600kph, every little molehill in the road became a mountain.
A refuge flashed by, parked cars abandoned. He glanced down at the navigator stashed under the screen. A rear-view camera - ostensible to check the parachute - showed the Griffon’s lights sparking behind him.
“Position Charlie Five clear. I’ve got the car. About Six seconds behind me.”
He had to be shout to be heard. The response was smothered in a blanket of noise.
“Say again!. I did not copy your last...”
“Increase to at least fifteen”
It crackled in his ears at full power, and still he could barely hear it.
“Fifteen seconds, copy that.”
He ripped the wastegate controller out, jamming it shut. There was no time to reset the controller. A small yellow light came up on the dashboard warning him off the fault, but the engine kept galloping forward.
With the wastegate stuck shut on the turbo, it’d build more boost. More boost meant more power, meant more speed.
It meant the engine now had a lifespan measurable in minutes.
He glanced down at the camera image. The headlights had already begun to recede away behind him.
------
Two men watched the Highway Star warm up.
“Can you hear me James?”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up, I can’t hear you.”
Neither of them could hear the phone ring.
-------
Ford felt like she could murder and entire pot of coffee. She felt like she could murder Mackie first. She stood there, staring at the map, hoping as if by force of gaze it’d stop the Griffon.
Her headset came to life.
“Aisha just responded. They have exocomps that can go that fast and lift the weight of the car.”
“How long Anika?”
“Ten minutes to get ready and get through the transfer passages.”
“This’ll be over in ten minutes.”
“Best they can do.”
So. That option was out. Not that it was ever really feasible in the first place.
“What about emergency teams?”
“Infirmary’s ready,” Sydney answered.
“Asuka’s got an emergency team on the way, Alert 1. They’re using Halcyon to make contact. I’ve already updated them.”
“And the evacuation?”
The Dorsai commander swept through a few final reports on his tablet with brush of his hand. “Everybody who wants to leave has left. Everyone else is at their own risk.”
Finally, she could stop sweating. It might not have been over, but it was under control. She closed her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath. She opened them in time to see a cluster of dots moving in the tunnel. A chill rolled across her body as she realised exactly who they were. The ID tags confirmed it.
She keyed the number into her comm. It didn't even ring once before being answered.
“Hello. Yes?”
He sounded out of breath, almost like he’d been shouting. Or running.
“Hey guys, what the hell’re you still doing in that tunnel? I hope you’re not stupid enough to try and film this.”
“When we parked up we blocked the exit with the caravan. We’re shuffling things around so we can get out.”
Idiots, she didn’t say.
“Well, you got one minute. Or you’re at ground zero for the biggest accident you’ve seen in your life.”
“No problem."
They hung up before she could tell them exactly what she thought. The BBC crew had been nothing but a problem. The beginnings of a headache began to form in her temples.
"This sucks."
--------
The Land Rover was stopped with it’s bonnet up, it’s doors open, and two sound engineers poking at the engine in the vain hope that it might pull a Lazarus . It had died halfway out of the refuge, with the caravan blocking the road, waiting for the inevitable. It was dead enough that fixing it wasn’t an option in the time available..
It’d been hooked up to the Ferrari by its own winch, the cable tied around a piece of the supercar’s rear carbon structure that they hoped would be strong enough to take the weight. It didn’t have it’s own tow-hooks. Steel cable had already chafed away the red paint and scuffed the chrome plating on the Cavallino Rampante.
The factory would be pissed. But they’d be considerably more pissed if the car caught in the wreck and destroyed. It was - all jokes aside - probably more valuable than they were. At least going by the insured costs.
The producer stuffed the phone back into his pocket, tried to do the stiff-upper lip thing and not show everyone how utterly terrified he was.... and failed utterly. The health and safety reports he'd have to file after the incident alone were horrifying enough
“Alright lads,” he said in a shaking voice. “We’ve got a minute to move this before the car gets here.”
The camera’s meanwhile, had been carefully abandoned in a position that would record it all.
-------
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Daggummit Dartz! stop teasing us and show us the Car-nage we know is going to befall the Top Gear blokes...
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to split the sky?
That's every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry-
NO QUARTER!!!
-- "No Quarter", by
Echo's Children
Dartz Wrote:I genuinely struggle to tell the difference. Only a few of the really oddball American tones stick out.
Either way, I dug up the dub and took a shot at it. After trying to gun that ear worm of an OP from my brain.
Anyway.
No worries - you're close enough.
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."
- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012
Star Ranger4 Wrote:Daggummit Dartz! stop teasing us and show us the Car-nage we know is going to befall the Top Gear blokes...
If I didn't keep teasing you all, nobody would keep reading.
Speaking of which:
"She tumbled like a ragdoll for nearly 20 seconds, before sliding to a dead stop face down with her right arm pinned under her body, not moving."
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
And now some actual story
Quote:Nene was already seated at her own console on Starbug, rifling through reports of the ongoing incident on Frigga.
“Frigga’s either closed their network off or it’s crashed. Their last message said they needed it clear for emergency use. People are spamming it pretty hard to get updates anyway. Anything I’m getting comes from fans with their own private nodes.”
“What’re they saying?” Jeph asked, mind more focused on not skipping the important parts of Starbug’s startup sequence. It was moments like this that the universe’s fine sense of irony lived for. It didn’t look like Jeph would be getting his manhood back any time
“A lot of it’s conflicting. Some people are saying there’re injuries, while another says there’s been no casualties so far. Then I’ve got an emergency team from Asuka being despatched at Alert 1, prepped for a mass-casualty accident.”
She scanned through the information far faster than any human ever could..
“Someone claims to have overheard a radio broadcast between the emergency crews that said it’d awakened and was going on a full-blown rampage. I’ve got a post from a popular blogger that thinks it might just be a stuck throttle but that doesn’t explain why they can’t just shut it down.”
“Tell me they sound like they’re getting the situation contained.”
“I can’t tell. There was an evacuation, but a lot of people are still watching anyway. I think they’re going to try and mount a rescue using Tachikoma and a Batmobile. Kohran Li’s involved.” Nene rubbed at both of her eyes Her lips were shaking, a few stray tears finding their way down her cheeks as she swallowed that persistent lump rising up her throat.
Shimmering eyes looked pleadingly at Jeph.
“I cant believe Mackie would wave something like that. It’s like, deliberately waking up a Largo or a Galatea or something.”
Jeph placed a soft hand on her shoulder. “We’ll be there within the hour. You can let him know just how you feel when you get there.”
-------
“Hurry. We’ve only got fifteen seconds.”
“You shouldn’t have stopped to warn those people.”
“It seemed like the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do is complete our mission.”
“But our mission is to save lives this time.”
“By stopping the car before it reaches them we save more lives in the future than getting held up to save a few people now.”
“But someone told me a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush?”
“What does that even mean anyway?”
“That it’s better to have something certain now, than to potentially have two of the same thing later because you may end up with none. What if we fail?”
“I didn’t think of that.”
“But in combat, sometimes the needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few. Otherwise you lose an army to save a squad.”
“This isn’t combat.”
“It’s a rescue. But it is reasonably similar. Our actions and decisions right now will ultimately decide who gets to live and who gets to die, which is no different from actions and decisions made on the battlefield.”
“But our objective here is solely to save lives while in combat the ultimate aim is to achieve some more important objective.”
“But isn’t the objective of combat ultimately to save lives in the long run by achieving objectives that prevent death in the long run?”
“So you’re saying that the situations are analogous and the same rules apply. “
“And we may achieve a greater good by stopping the runaway car and killing it’s occupant than by allowing it to continue and kill many people in the future?”
“Jaguar won’t be happy. She’ll be angry with us.”
“Why? If we fulfilled the mission?”
“Because the occupant of the vehicle is important to her. So to her the needs of this one therefore outweigh the needs of the many.”
“How illogical.”
“She may claim to be cybernetic, but she’s only human.”
“Sigh.”
A light sparked in the tunnel ahead. Dozens of camera-eyes wirled around to lock on in a second. Sensors scanned and analysed, producing a three-dimensional model that could be compared against the recognition database. A ping from the comm-circuit confirmed it a microsecond later.
“That’s DuPree.”
“We haven’t arrived yet!”
“We’ll be late!”
“Just a few seconds!”
The ride got off the throttle moments after becoming aware of their presence. All three hugged the walls of the tunnel to give him room to pass, reacting with a speed beyond human.
Headlights blazed in the tunnel, rounding the corner ahead riding a roar they immediately identified as a jet turbine at full throttle.
They spun to a halt inside the refuge
“Made it!”
“Tachikoma Unit. In Position Charlie 10”
They marked it proudly on the map. With an estimated 5421 milliseconds to spare.
-------
Lebia monitored through the think-tanks visual feeds.
“Lebia to all. Now!”
------
Mackie saw them in the headlights, three abreast in the centre of the tunnel. The parted around him, making a whole just narrow enough for him to drive through.
“Tachikoma.....”
He felt something hit the car, and braced for the final crunch.
------
Coordinating with themselves and Lebia the Three Tachikoma chose six points on the car’s bodywork.Targeting with pinpoint accuracy, they fired their wires as one, latching on to their individual target points.
The plan was simple on paper.
They would use their own mass to decelerate the car, paying out line at just enough of a rate so that the tension on the line accelerating them was just below breaking strain. Newton’s laws would do the rest.
Once they’d reach parity with the car and reeled themselves in, they would then apply their brakes, further decelerating the car to the point where the Tumbler could be latched on
The hard part was doing it without inadvertently crashing the car in the process. The slightest imbalance in forces would be catastrophic.
Data raced through their minds, miniscule adjustments made every millisecond as they danced along the razors edge above disaster. Flooded with data, they allowed the overflow to divert through Lebia. Corrections were processed near-instantaneously before being relayed back. Corrections were made in the blink of an eye, saving the driver from certain death before he was even aware of it.
Their brakes were already passing their usual maximum temperatures as they dragged the car down below 400kph. The regenerative circuits were already overloading. But it would be an easy fix.
Secure and stable, they activated their sensor arrays. Using technologies developed to find weakpoints in ship’s hulls they reached through the car’s fiberglass skin.
“Commencing structural analysis.”
It was steel - a proper spraceframe with enough redundancy to take the stresses. They calculated the loads imposed through various members, trading information and clustering themselves as they worked. They simulated three potential hookup points - each simulation ending in the catastrophic destruction of the car as it flipped up and the airflow caught under it.
Their third choice kept the car on the ground.
“Analysis complete!”
The information flashed back to the node on the Tumbler. Lebia confirmed it before sending the important parts on to Jet.
“Jet. Attach to these points on the car’s chassis.”
“That low?”
“The alternatives risk flipping the car.”
“Got it.”
She grabbed the first of the Tumbler’s three cables and pulled it with her as she swooped down low over the road.
------
Jet Jaguar was - first and foremost - built to fly.
Instinct kept her in the air as she grabbed the first of the tow cables in one hand. Experience compensated for the drag of the cable on her hand and the shift in the centre of gravity. Sheer bloody nerve allowed her to skim over the surface of the road, riding ground-effect at 400kph with her chest centimetres from the surface as she closed on the rear of the Griffon.
If the cable clipped the road, it could drag her down under the wheels of the Tumbler. An pin-point balancing act kept it taught behind her.
To add emphasis, her foot skinned the surface with a shock that resonated through her frame and threw a shower of sparks back towards the Tumbler. That was going to be a pain to get fixed.
“Diffuser’s giving me some turbulence.”
Radiotelepathy was always a little uncomfortable, but she could handle it. So long as the data-rate was kept down below the headache-limit.
“Pull back and try again,” Lebia suggested
“No, I’ve got this.”
She inched forwards towards the the rear diffuser, keeping below the stream of scalding jet eflux being left by the Griffon’s engine. It tore the air above her head. She reached for the point marked on her HUD. The cable pulled back.
She tugged on the cable. “A little more,”
“How much?”
“As I pull...”
Jet’s visor popped open to allow her to get a better look with her natural eyesight. She was staring right down the throat of the diffuser, aiming for a frame bar right above it. The heat was beginning to soak through her armour, tingling inside the core of her body.
She rode the turbulence, making instinctive corrections as she reached for the target. Jet passed the cable around it, before hooking it tightly back over itself. It latched into place with a hefty clank. She tested it with a quick tug to make sure it was secure.
“That’s one!”
Now for the second.
------
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Nice idea to use targeting sensors for this kind of job.
I've just read through this all again on Spacebattles, and one thing I've picked up is that everyone is assuming the Griffon is 'waved. I can just see Myk charging in, yelling about idiots and wave when Mackie (given everything that's happened) snaps. Cue lots of yelling from Mackie at Myk about assumptions and Lebia confirming the lack of wave in the car to a stunned group before leading Mackie away.
Oh, and the problem with cut off scentences is back:
dartz Wrote:She grabbed the first of the Tumbler’s three cables and pulled it with her as she
Fixed it, thanks. I'll get the SB version when the server starts behaving again. Warner Brothers are hammering it with DMCA's or something.
It is the natural assumption most people would make, especially given the speed of the thing. Ultimately though, the compelling narrative of the waved cybergriffon gone berserk will far outlast the more mundane story of an overpowered kitcar with a stuck throttle. Much to Mackie's annoyance. Fen are funny that way. Simple oversights are just too boring an explanation... so by the time the truth gets out the lie's gone halfway around the 'verse.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
And Bonk.
Quote:Smoke trailed from the wheels of the lead Tachikoma, brake disks and stator coils starting to glow white-hot.
“My brakes are overheating!”
A note of artificial panic added to the urgency.
“Mine too!” The second announced.
They held firm. The Third bore the pain in stoic silence.
“Tell him to brake,” directed Lebia.
Jet messaged him direct. “Mackie. Brake. Brake as hard as you can.”
Clouds of carbon dust belched through the vents in the wheels as the Griffon’s damaged brakes engaged with a metallic scream.
-------
“Big fat tyres and everything....”
Kohran mumbled as tweaked the throttle, watching the temperature gauge rise closer and closer to the green line. Her body fizzed with energy, ready to explode at a moment’s notice.
All she was waiting on was the word that was taking forever to come.
------
“They’ve got two.” Anika announced “Going for the Third.”
Ford offered a relieved smile, her first in what had seemed like an age. “Great. Just one more and then I can kill him.”
------
Myk pressed his free hand against his ear to try and block out the sound of the whistling ventilation ducts. His other hand pressed a wave-phone against the side of his head.
“I don’t know yet Jeph, I haven’t heard anything beyond what I told you.”
A pause.
“I’m still in the escape tunnel and there’s another.....”
The line went silent.
“Jeph?” He tried. “Jeph?”
The Stig looked down at him, then at the rock walls. There’s your problem made.
------
KJ saw distinctive electric blue tint of xenon headlights crawling around the curve of the tunnel ahead.. His breath caught in his throat as his hand covered the brake, expecting the worst.
A moment later, he rounded the bend and the worst exceeded his expectations by light years.
Part of his mind refused to believe it - that anyone could be that stupid. Part of his mind wondered if it wasn’t some sick staged stunt. The rest of him focused on just not hitting the bloody thing and the half dozen men struggling to get it out of the way.
Stuck halfway out of the refuge with the Land Rover towing it nosed up against the wall as far as it’d go. He aimed for the free space to the right.
It was gone in a heartbeat, receding into the distance behind him before his thoughts caught up. Fifteen seconds behind him was the Griffon.
“There’s a caravan in the tunnel! Charlie One-Six.”
That’s all he managed to broadcast. His whole body had gone cold.
-------
An engine’s roar filled the tunnel, grabbing everyone’s attention. It was different, a wail closer to a Formula 1 engine than a jet turbine. It rolled along the walls, echoing back and forth, coming from everywhere at once.
The cameraman spotted the headlight first .“We’re out of time!”
The Stiletto passed in a flash and a howl, hugging the right wall of the tunnel, leaving the scent of burning alcohol in its wake chased by popping gunshots from the turbochargers as the anti-lag kicked in.
The producer felt his stomach drop to his feet. “Oh.. bollox.” A familiar roar was building inexorably in the distance, rolling closer with every passing moment. “Everyone, get to cover. I’m going to warn them.” He grabbed a flare from the back of the Land Rover, thinking maybe he could use it to wave them off.
“Too Late!” The cameraman yelled, diving behind the Land Rover.
The presenter turned to face the camera inside the Ferrari. “Ladies and gentlemen......”
That was as far as he got.
-------
Lebia didn’t wait to see it with her own eyes.
“Jettison Cables!”
All three Tachikoma acted at once, breaking the connection. Explosive bolts severed the cables connecting the Tumbler to the Griffon. Jet released the cable she was holding, allowing it to retract back into its housing before it could get caught under the Tumbler.
Lebia lifted off the throttle, to give the Tachikoma space. A quick calculation told her she had no hope of stopping in time.
The Griffon’s brakes were instantly overwhelmed. Freed once more, it began to pick up speed, trailing three Tachikoma lines and a pair of steel cables.
Mackie saw it first, screaming in momentary fright. He saw the film crew running for cover - one man standing rabbit-like in the headlights before his legs finally decided to act of their own accord and get their owner out of the way.
He saw the gap and drove right for it, never lifting his feet off the brake.
Jet accelerated ahead of the crash, passing over the top of the Griffon, dodging a lashing cable with a snap roll. Mackie braced for impact. He didn’t close his eyes.The Tachikoma to the right dropped back. The second managed to slip in between Griffon and Tumbler to safety, a tap on the Tumbler’s brakes giving it just enough room to spin out of the way before Lebia followed through.
The third had nowhere to go but through.
“I can’t stop!” it squealed, at the last instant trying to shield it’s sensors with it’s manipulator arms.
-------
The caravan exploded on impact.
Shards of pottery mixed with splinters of wood and plastic and puffballs of sickly yellow fiberglass insulation in an expanding cloud of debris that burst outward riding along in the Griffon’s wake. Metal shrapnel scythed through the air, peppering the side of the Land Rover, pattering off the carbon tub of the Ferrari and splashing itself against the windshield of the Tumbler as it blasted through the ongoing wreck.
Pieces of Tachikoma joined the mass, a smashed leg punching through the rear window of the Range Rover, drilling through the rear seats before coming to rest embedded in the back of front passenger seat. It began to smoke immediately.
A manipulator slammed down onto the nose of the Ferrari, cracking the bodywork. Hydraulic fluid bled out pink across the red paint.
The remains of the Tachikoma skittered and spun down the road, shedding parts and trailing sparks and little flicks of flame where pieces of insulation caught light momentarily before extinguishing themselves.
“Ow,” said the think-tank in a meek tone as it came to a halt amidst a pile of debris. Three of its legs were gone, the abdomen had been wrenched off its actuator and both of its manipulators had been ripped free. The body was battered, scratched and pitted, but still mostly intact - intact enough to feel painfully embarrassed about the whole thing.
A bottle of gas rolled to a halt against its body with a hollow clonk. Insulation drifted slowly to the ground around like snow. The remains off pots, pans and various items of pottery were strewn across the tunnel. Papers drifted in the air. The caravan’s frame hadn’t moved an inch.
The producer steadily got back to his feet, propping himself up against the concrete barrier that’d saved his life, offering sincere thanks to God that he was unhurt.
The camera crew themselves were far more concerned about the Range Rover now beginning to burn.
“Some poo came out....” Said the shaking Presenter to the in-car camera, his jaw going slack as his eyes took in the devastation.
-------
Don't you know how the Standard Thunderbirds episode goes? The first attempt always fails and escalates the situation just in time for the ad-break.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Alright. Marching steadily onwards.
Quote:The sound of the impact blasted down the tunnel, outracing the speeding Griffon. It overtook KJ on the Stilleto a moment later, muffled by his helmet and drowned out by roar of the engine beneath him. The tunnel itself formed one massive helmholtz resonator, amplifying the sounds of the impact until it exploded like a bomb into the carpark, ringing off the metal-lined walls.
Almost everyone ducked. Except Kohran.
It pulsed down the emergency tunnels, shaking a rain of rust and dust loose from the overhead ventilation. Myk feared the worst. Almost everyone rushed to their phones to report what’d just happened.
It rumbled like thunder through the dealer’s hall high above, echoing and rolling over the heads of the attendees. Almost everyone looked up.
“Oh no,” said Sora softly.
-----
“Fuck!”
Ford watched as the indicators merged on her map. She held her breath in that moment as they crossed.
One stopped. The others blasted straight through. She grasped her communicator, squeezing it tight enough that it was threatening to break. They’d already passed out of shot before she zoomed the map in to crash site. It told her nothing more than the relative position of a number of wristbands, and the embedded RFID chips.
She guessed the fastest was Jet. One had to be the Griffon. The following one was the Tumbler. Slowing down were the Tachikoma. Visions of exploding cars ran through her mind, tangled wreckage and wrecked bodies. A cold memory of the night she learned to hate all street racers rolled through her mind, squatting up front and centre in her awareness.
“A Tachikoma crashed. It hit the Top Gear caravan. The Griffon is free and undamaged,” Anika said.
Ford barely heard her.
“Anyone hurt?”
“I don’t know yet.
The medical officer interrupted with a gentle cough. “I’m going to wait until the car’s stopped. There’s no sense in making it worse, if it comes back around.”
Ford didn’t even look. “Right....”
-------
White smoke rose from the front seat of the Range Rover where the Tachikoma leg was baking the foam. Small flames licked up around the glowing brakes, inspite of the retardant impregnated into the material.
The cameraman sitting in the driver’s seat stared, his mouth goldfishing as he tried to comprehend what would’ve happened if someone had been sitting there beside him.
It took the Sound Engineer attacking the building fire with an extinguisher to snap him out of it. He fumbled with the door handle before tumbling out when it opened unexpectedly, chased by a white cloud of carbon dioxide.
A few last flecks of foam rained down around the producer. He sat back against the cool stone wall
“We’re alive?”
He didn’t even believe he’d heard his own voice.
“Is everyone okay?”
“We’re alive,” answered the sound engineer. “Production office is gone though. ”
“Bugger.”
“Landy’s fucked too,” the cameraman added.
“At least we’re all still here.”
The presenter took a few moments to marvel at the fact that he hadn’t been torn to pieces in the impact before doing one final piece to camera.
“Good news everyone. It appears we’re all alive.” He glanced at the wrecked bonnet. “Until Ferrari finds out what happened anyway.”
------
“KJ. Kohran. We’re going with plan B. Get up to speed.”
Kohran didn’t need Lebia to tell her twice. She was already howling into the darkness of the tunnel, hot blue flame blowing through the Highway Star’s open wastegates.
-------
“Oh fuck me. You’re sure.”
Nene winced. She watched Jeph run her fingers through her hair as her worst fears were confirmed. All colour had gone from her face. It was beyond bad news...
“There’s a detachment from Asuka coming , I hope they arrive in time.”
Another pause. Nene strained to make out the other end of the conversation.
“We’ll be there inside the hour.”
Jeph placed the wavephone on the pilot’s console beside her, taking a few moments to calm down and try and centre herself. It didn’t do much to take the edge of the sense of infuriating frustration.
“What happened?”
Her voice was small and quiet, even inside the cramped cockpit of Starbug. As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she hadn’t asked.
Jeph took one big deep breath, holding it for a moment to give her ample time to prepare. “Myk says he just heard a big crash. He doesn’t know any more than that, but it was big.”
Nene could feel herself shaking.
“Oh no... Mackie.”
-------
“Mackie. We’re going to open both doors. I’m going to get aboard. I’ll take control, pass you out to Kohran on the Highway Star, then I’ll abandon the Griffon once it’s clear of people.”
It sounded so easy.
He didn’t know how many people were hurt when that Tachikoma hit the caravan. He didn’t know how many people were hurt when it shot through the car park.
He felt his body go cold all over. He knew had had enough fuel for another circuit, maybe two. Enough to make it back around and run smack into the middle of that accident.
There was no stopping it. The idea to use the Tumbler as a mobile brake in front flashed through his mind, just long enough to tease him with a glimmer of hope before he remembered that the back end of a Tumbler consisted of a flaming jet pipe and four fat tyres.
It hoved into view in his mirrors, polychromatic paint shifting colours to grab his attention. Lebia was there.....
“Maybe I should just stop it.” He said, for the second time.
He meant it too.
“Mackie...”
He didn’t have to look, he could hear the scowl on his sister’s face.
“No really. I can control it. There’s less fuel in it so less fire. And we’re close to help. And if I keep going I’m only going to hit that wreck. A controlled crash would be better.”
He could survive a controlled crash. In a controlled location. He could bail out and bounce. It was crystal clear and certain in his mind.
“Mackie. Shut the fuck up. I’m getting you out of that car in one piece if it kills me. “
Somehow, he knew that if Jet could’ve slapped him across the face right then and there, she would’ve.
---------
The wounded Tachikoma was glad it hadn’t been fitted with polychromatic paint yet. It saved it from turning pink with shame as the others circling around, brakes steaming as they cooled off.
“We can’t take you anywhere, can we?”
Not again.
“Wrecked again? How many times is this?”
“They weren’t my fault!” it pleaded, but it was futile. Reputation cared little for truth.
“Mother told us to wait here with you. We’re to try move the wreckage to in case the car makes it back around.”
All three calculated the probability of success, then got to work anyway.
-------
“He does have a point.”
Jet seemed to hang in the air for a few moments, staying silent within her own thoughts for long enough to make Lebia wonder if she’d heard - or was even paying attention. The cyber just kept pace with the accelerating Griffon, hanging just off the driver’s side door, clear of the sparking cables still being dragged behind.
“I know.”
“The remaining Tachikoma are clearing the wreckage, but there’s only two of them functional.”
Another pause.
“Fourteen. Charlie Fourteen’s empty,” Jet replied. She sounded like she might as well have been choosing a grave.
----------
I just noticed that, very rarely are there more than two people talking per scene.
Corrections/suggestions are welcome.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
I wonder if there is a "Thunderbirds Quirk" active... plan A never works out
A short update, but I'm trying to keep the weekly schedule.
Quote:-----
The wail of the Highway Star resonated out of the tunnel, lingering long after it and it’s rider had departed.
The Stilletto was first to arrive, bulleting along the path cleared through the car park. The howl of its engine hung in the air behind it, the whistle of a turbocharger blowing it along.
Jet blasted through riding a high cold scream, trailing shock-cones from both foot-mounted engines, followed by the deep hollow roar of the Griffon’s single turbine leaving a trail of hot metal sparks and shimmering hot air.
The Tumbler’s bellowing engine brought up the rear, it’s paint still shifting to adapt to the sudden influx of overhead light.
Dozens of flash-bulbs illuminated them from all sides for the single second it took to pass through the car park. Waved camera’s and holographic scanners captured dozens of high resolution pictures in that moment - framing speed itself on a smeared background for all to see.
It was speed on a human scale -speed you could reach out and touch and be a part of. The thunderous noise- the drifting heat and the wafting smells of burned fuel, hot rubber and warm lubricants - it spoke to the soul with an energy and power that thrilled the hearts of those who watched in a way a lazy point-one C cruise through space never could.
What the average wavecraft achieved was nothing more than the rate of change of distance with respect to time - a sterile figure no more exciting than a measure of how long you wouldn’t have to wait to arrive at your destination.
But this... this here was speed.
Naked and undeniable speed, powered by the burning bones of dinosaurs set free with a roar entombed underground for aeons and now finally unleashed to challenge the God of Thunder himself for dominance.
There were no God’s who could answer, only the thrilled screams of those who bore witness.
This was why they came. This moment. This thrill of speed - of racing along the razors edge, a dance with seductive death herself beckoning just within reach if you just went that little bit faster. The thrill was speed - the thrill was the difference between true speed and the magnitude of a velocity vector.
It passed in moments, living only the shivering echoes behind and the primal feeling that it really was great to have survived.
For they were the those for whom it never got fast enough, slaves to the cause of speed.
-----
The three needles on the speedometer pointed to 704.
Full throttle. Full boost. Full speed.
The Highway Star was giving her its best and Kohran knew it. It was exhilarating. It was electrifying. It rolled through her body and made her feel all giddy inside.
It was excessive.
Reigning the machine in to let the others catch up was the hardest thing she had to do. When every synapse demanded she accelerate. When the motorcycle itself demanded to be let run free. It begged to go faster.
She switched off the water injection, boost controllers reverting to their lower setting. It seemed almost insulted to be asked to go so pathetically slow, stuttering for a few moments as it ran momentarily rich.
“This‘s Kohran, I’m cruising down at 450. Waitin’ f’r you guys.”
---------
KJ could hear it.
Over the wind noise ripping at its ears and the noise of the V8 between his legs, he could still hear the Highway Star up ahead, long before he saw it. An alcohol burning V8 engine blowing through a single turbine was loud enough to break most decibel meter make ears ring for hours afterwards.
The Highway Star, with four rotors, peripheral ports, open wastegates and bazooka ‘silencers’ was loud in the same way the flash of a nuclear bomb was bright. Get too close without proper protection and it might well be the last thing you ever heard.
The air itself buzzed with power and energy, alive and tingling. The smell of burnt leaded petrol filtered in through his helmet, strong and sweet. The insides of his legs baked in the heat rising from the exhausts.
Moments later, the Star came into view - it’s taillight glowing red out of the gloom.
“Kohran! They’re about ten seconds behind me.”
“Roger! Roger!.”
He could hear the grin on her face as he rolled past. The Star was cruising lazily at an easy 450, waiting for the following Griffon to catch up - Kohran’s own fault for getting a little overexcited racing too far ahead.
KJ accelerated ahead, leaving the Highway Star in his wake. It was a shame really, he’d been looking forward to that race. Neither machine was really being asked to give it’s best.
'LO FUEL' Flashed up on his Motec display. He cursed inside his helmet, before selecting Lebia’s frequency.
“This is KJ. I’m on reserve fuel. One minute and I’m done.”
“Understood.” she answered, almost instantly. “Continue to Charlie 4. Then stop out of the way..”
“Copy that.”
The downside of big speed and hardtech alcohol engines - Fuel burned fast.
--------
EDIT:
Song of Sausage Creature Mentioned earlier in the fic. Also, paraphrased above. Hunter S. Thompson - worth reading.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
You know those gaming moments where the GM encourages you against your better judgement to go with the riskier option, for the sake of cinematics? The whole, 'you're rolling so many dice with so many bonuses there's no way you can botch' deal?
This is one of those.
Quote:Jet opened the passenger door.
“I’m going for entry.”
Springs held the door open, in spite of the stream of air rushing by. It roared into the cabin, curling around the sill of the door. It sucked the air out, drumming on Mackies ears. It might’ve been annoying if he was human. It dragged at his shirt and dragged his gaming cards out through the opening.
The Highway Star buzzed in the mirrors, waving around the trailing cables. It kept pace just off his door. It’s engine rattled the window. She lifted her hand from the throttle, offering him a thumbs-up.
He just looked at her, trying not to show how terrified he really was.
It made it hard to focus on keeping the car straight.
His Sister grabbed on to the open door, pushing it open wide enough to lever herself in. Her feet smashed through the dashboard, making enough room for her to sit comfortably in the passenger seat. Mackie couldn’t help but grimace at the wanton destruction of the car he’d spent so long working on.
Her metal hand pushed his off the steering wheel, taking control of the car.
“I’m aboard. I have control,” she radioed.
“Copy. Kohran, your turn,” broadcast Lebia. “Watch those cables.”
“Yeah, yeah. I see ‘em.”
Kohran swerved wide as one of the Tachikoma lines tangled in the turbulence coming off the wheels and whipped out to reach her. A solid hit at that speed meant a certain wreck - and a brand new body.
It thrilled her.
This was fun. Tweak the throttle and the Star would lunge forward. Ease off and aerodynamics would push back. Precision feathering of the throttle kept her level with the driver’s door. Mackie’s terrified face looked. Poor boy was learning this lesson the hard way, but they all had to go through it.
She pulled to within arm’s reach of the driver’s door. Buffeting shook the bike, sending a shudder through the frame that threatened to grow into deadly wobble that’d buck her out of the saddle. A quick tweak of the throttle let the two wheel drive system pull the machine straight. She locked the trigger at
a constant position, and reached for the doorhandle.
“Opening driver’s door.”
Lebia broke in. “Passing Charlie 4. You’ve 100 seconds.”
The slowing Stilletto flashed past on the far side, it’s rider quietly glad that it wasn’t him trying to make a high speed transfer between vehicles. Waved leathers or not, bouncing down the road at 500 kilometres an hour would be an unhealthy experience.
Lebia passed him a moment later, growing the gap between herself and the Griffon to allow sufficient space to react in the event of catastrophe. She could react in an effective instant, but the Tumbler took it’s own time to do anything.
Mackie’s eyes golfballed as he realised what he was expected to do. Kohran beckoned him to jump from his seat
His words were swallowed by the wind, but it was plainly obvious what he’d sait.
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
A gentle smile from his sister, and a strong metal hand urged him forward. There was no way this would work - he was certain of it. He unbuckled his belt, sliding up onto the door sills. The wind grabbed
“Charlie 5,” Lebia announced. The green emergency lights were already receding into the distance.
Mackie stared at the Highway star, less than thirty centimetres away from the sill. He could feel the heat blowing off the engine on his face, it was so close. The wind dragged at him, threating to pull him off the door sill. He grabbed on to the roll cage with both hands to keep himself from slipping, tentatively edging forward.
The Highway Star swayed away from him, before swinging back to meet.
“Hold it steady Jet!”
“Try driving one handed,” Jet shot back, growling in frustration.
Mackie edged himself out of his seat. There was dangerous. And there was this.
“Oh fuck me,” He muttured to himself.
There was The Edge. There it was, right there. Just one slip away. One step and then BAM!, Good for Parts Only. It ripped along like a belt sander, just beneath his feet. Jump, or don’t jump... the choice between Now or Later.
Only his head and his body weren’t quite agreed on which meant which.
“Charlie 6.”
“Come on Boy!”
Mackie didn’t hear it, but he could still see the look in her eyes. He could still feel the wind pulling him back down the tunnel, with the Tumbler growling behind threatening a crushing end if he fell. He could feel the pressure on the door.
“Passing Charlie 7.”
A very deliberate notw of urgency had crept into Lebia’s voice.
Mackie steadied himself on the carbon door-sill, making sure he had a good footing. He crouched beneath the open door to keep himself out of the air-stream for as long as possible. Part of him started to wonder where the motorslaves were to grab him and his sister.
But it didn’t work so easily in real life.
“Charlie 8. 27 seconds.”
“Get a move on!” Kohran urged.
Mackie glanced back at his Sister. He saw her lips form one single syllable through her visor.
“Go.”
Even if he didn’t make it, landing on the road was a damn sight better than crashing face first into a brick wall. Especially without a seatbelt. Either way sucked. One sucked the least. It was just a matter of convincing his body to go along with the plan.
He reached out and grabbed Kohran’s shoulder, fingers gripping on the armaplas. He stood with one foot on the door sill, one hand on the roll cage to steady himself, and one leg inching forward to step on to the Highway Star.
“Charlie 9.”
His foot found the exhaust hanger. The smell of singed boot confirmed it. Holding his breath, he hauled himself forward out of the Griffon. The wind ripped at him, threatening the drag himself and Kohran off the machine. She grimaced and gripped on tight to the handlebars, taking the weight. The Star convulsed in rpotest as the weight shifted across its back, swaying towards the Griffon.
Jet pulled the car away, giving Kohran space to grip the throttle tight and straighten the bike out with a handful of throttle before pulling away.
Mackie felt himself sit down on the plastic tail section, and took the time to perform a quick self diagnostic to confirm the fact that he really was sitting their and safe.
For a relative value of safe.
Thank. You. Skuld. Thank you. Just... thank you.
“I’ve got’m. Gonna get this thing slowed down.”
“Nice one Kohran. I’ll give you space to stop.” Jet exhaled a long sigh of relief as she watched the Highway Star recede into the distance. behind her, Mackie safely aboard.
“Jet, wait until after Charlie 10,” said Lebia. Space for everyone to slow down safely. The cyber could hear the smile on her voice.
“Will do.”
There was nothing left to do but make sure it didn’t hit anything important. Aim it at the wall, then bail out before it hit. Nothing to it. She watched the lights of refuge Charlie ten flash by, a few abandoned cars still waiting for their owners and counted three heartbeats to be sure she was clear.
Jet released the Griffon and rolled out under the door, before lighting a flash of her engines to blast clear.
She felt something clip her leg. She had the merest moment to realise what’d happened, before the cable lashed itself tightly around her heel and yanked her backwards in mid-air. A cry of surprise escaped her lips as the cable snapped free, sending her tumbling.
There was a moment to brace for impact before Jet landed hard on her head.
The force of impact was enough to split her helmet and pop her visor off. The cyber had just enough self awareness left to try curl up into a ball before she tumbled, bounced and skidded along the tunnel floor, shedding hot sparks and shards of armour.
She tumbled like a ragdoll for nearly 20 seconds, over and over, before sliding to a dead stop face down with her right arm pinned under her body, not moving.
The Griffon carried on driverless for another half a kilometre, still trailing sparks until it reached another curve in the tunnel. It ricocheted off the wall, shedding its right front wheel before veering wildly back towards the centre of the tunnel.
A moment later the steering rack gave out. The ruined suspension dug hard in, gouging a trench into the concrete. The magnesium caught fire, igniting with a brilliant white hot flare and a shower of blazing sparks.
It pulled back to the wall, engines still screaming full throttle. The nose speared into wall at a 45 degree angle. The steel frame shattered. Every single weld in the chassis burst apart, turning the car into ball of wreckage still travelling at over 400 kilometres an hour. The turbine engine screamed as it ripped free, fuel and lubricating oils spraying from torn hoses.
The kerosene tanks ruptured, a cloud of vapourised fuel boiling through the burning wreckage.
Hot orange fire engulfed the remains, boiling forwards through the tunnel and smothering what was left of the destroyed car. Thick black smoke rolled along the roof of the tunnel, swallowing the striplights. A single hubcap rolled to a stop against the wall, before toppling onto its side with a hollow clang.
Jet lay in the road, silhouetted by the flames.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Dartz Wrote:You know those gaming moments where the GM encourages you against your better judgement to go with the riskier option, for the sake of cinematics? The whole, 'you're rolling so many dice with so many bonuses there's no way you can botch' deal?
It's amazing how many of those situations I've botched...
Quote:Kohran swerved wide as one of the Tachikoma lines tangled in the turbulence coming off the wheels and whipped out to reach her. A solid hit at that speed meant a certain wreck - and a brand new body.
It thrilled her.
Oh, I know exactly what scene to render here... if only I could get Kohran's face (based on V4) to morph into a decent "shit-eating grin".
That comes later.
Quote:Jet lay in the road, silhouetted by the flames.
Oh, dear. Jet can't swap bodies ...
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."
- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012
We can rebuild her.... it's just a matter of being able to swallow the invoice afterwards. Jet's just lucky this is a slightly more heroic setting than I'm used to playing in..... and that helmets work.
Ultimately, Mackie wouldn't have learned a thing unless he seriously injured someone he cared about.
In other news, soon afterwards, most of his stuff appears on various auction sites to be sold to the Highest bidder. Including Lightning Rod. All proceeds go towards paying for the excess on the damage. The rest is a demonstration of why taking out event insurance for a Convention is a great idea when you don't have the backing of a millionaire..
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Time to start tying things up without hitting LOTR sysndrome
Two more sections after this and we're done. Unless anyone has any contributions....
Quote:“They got him!”
Anika announced it with a fat grin accross her face. Sighs of relief rolled around the room, momentary congratulations being uttered between the Dorsai.
Situation resolved. Nobody dead. One serious injury. One teenaged android in need of a punch to the face. And an insurance mess.
She keyed open her comm. “Hey Jet, What’s happened?”
No answer.
An alarm chirped on one of the panels, sectors flashing up red on screen in front of her.
“Fire alert. 1 kilometre beyond point Charlie 10,” said one of the Dorsai, calmly. “Ventilation fans are at full power. Exhaust shafts are open to space. Injection shafts prioritising fire zone and evacuation passages..”
No real urgency. The fire was expected. Assets were already ready to roll. Situation now under control.
“Get a full response team onsite. Powder and inert suppressant,” ordered their commander.
“Already dispatched.”
Ford switched frequencies, then keyed open her mic.
“Jet. You have your radio on?”
No answer. She looked to Anika, ready to ask if there was
“It’s Jet. She’s down. It sounds bad.”
-------
Mackie stood alone..
“Is...... Is she dead?”
He didn’t even hear the answer. Mackie watched in a daze. He watched Lebia remind Kohran not to remove the cyber’s helmet, before hooking up a medical datalink. In places he could finally see what was under the armour, and he wished he couldn’t. Blood streamed from a bone-deep gash across her forehead.
The suppression team arrived driving an old Genaros Fire Service truck. It took minutes to smother the blazing wreck in powder. He went with his Sister in the back of the ambulance back to the main hall. He remembered the paramedics discussing the potential for the armour on her chest to interfere with CPR or defibrillation.
He was vaguely aware of everyone looking at him as his sister was readied for medevac. A gentle hand told him to stay behind rather than get in the way. The Camera crew were taking long, loving shots of the Tumbler.
He remembered yelling at someone that he didn’t wave it. Then who did? It wasn’t waved. Lebia confirmed that for him, but the rumour was already gone halfway across the ‘verse before the truth got it’s pants on.
Nothing but a stuck throttle. An old Detroit Diesel had done the same thing the day before thanks to a failed governor. Only the owner remembered it now. There was something perverse about that. The same failure, but consequences an order of magnitude different.
But it was obvious to the world who’s fault it really was. Security claimed his pass, but they couldn’t really ask him to leave since he lived there.They made him walk instead. Ford was far more concerned with Jet to bother with killing him.
He slipped through the crowds, trying to get to somewhere private. The old house up in the dome was a long way away.
Shinji was about. Mackie avoided him on purpose. He thought about diverting down to the Silky Doll, but he’d left his key on his bed - and didn’t really want to ask anyone else for theirs. He was stopped dead in his tracks by Nene.
She stood in front of him, staring right through him like he wasn’t even there.
Mackie barely had time to utter a word in his defense before Nene hauled back and punched him, a hard right cross, that laid him out on the floor. As he lay there dazed, everyone else looked at Nene in shock.
"...did she just do that, or am I going nuts?" Myk whispered to Jeph.
"No. She just clocked him one. Justified, I think. I think we now know under which circumstances she CAN be violent."
"...that was not the way Sylia taught you to be," Nene said, tears streaming down her face, before she turned, and walked through the crowd, back towards the hangar.
-------
The PA system chimed.
“Earlier today, there was an accident with a runaway car. The car was a Lamborghini Countach replica, modified and fitted with a gas turbine engine. As far as we know, it wasn’t handwaved. It didn’t awaken an AI or go berserk. The throttle stuck open and the driver couldn’t get it out of gear.
The driver of the runaway was rescued unharmed from the car.. He’s been banned from the event.”
It was obvious to all that Ford was painfully distracted by something. Those who looked at the schedule could guess what.
“We’ve had two serious injuries. One is in stable condition in the infirmary, another is being evacuated to an emergency care facility. We’ve had a dozen minor injuries, ranging from cuts and bruises, with the worst of them being a broken leg. Thankfully, we’ve had no fatalities.
I’d like to thank those who helped - and who offered to help. They kept an accident from becoming a disaster. That’s Lebia Maverick, Kohran Li, KJ DuPree. I’d like to thank the team from Asuka for arriving here so quickly. And everyone here for your patience and understanding.”
There was a pause, broken by a single deep breath.
“Okay. We all know how dangerous our hobby can be. Depending on where we grew up, we had Red Asphalt, or the Transport Accident Commission, or a dozen others to make sure we knew how dangerous our hobby is. It’s been called an Atavistic Endeavour by some. But still we drive.
So, for the time being, the event will continue. Today’s planned racing events have been cancelled, along with a number of others. Details are on the live timetable. I don’t know if there’ll be racing tomorrow, that’ll be decided by the committee tonight.
From now on, there’s a speed limit of 160kph. That’s a hundred miles an hour. If you’re caught breaking it, we take your con pass. This will be enforced.
Because of the damage, B-tunnel will remain closed for the rest of the weekend.
Anybody with insurance claims, direct them to the treasurer and the general secretary. They’ll sort them out with our insurance company. Anything else, you know where the email box is.”
Ford clicked the mic off, sat it back down in its holder, took a deep breath and waited. She waited all night.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?
Dartz Wrote:Time to start tying things up without hitting LOTR sysndrome
Two more sections after this and we're done. Unless anyone has any contributions....
Use or ignore as you wish:
"I talked with Ford about all this, and we've come to an agreement. I'm paying one hundred credits as the rental charge for getting to ride the Highway Star for an hour. Well, less than an hour."
Mackie stared at her. "You helped save my life, and you're paying us?"
Kohran grinned. "Saving lives is just the right thing to do. Getting to ride that bike was a thrill. You gotta learn the difference between what's important and what's fun." Seeing Mackie's expression on hearing that, she quickly added, "But I think you're starting to figure that one out. And sometimes they overlap."
{foo} cleared [his/her] throat. "Could you get Stellvia to help pay for the damages?"
Kohran shook her head. "I'm not with StellviaCorp any more. But even if I was, think about this: Stellvia takes care of its own, and Stellvia takes care of its own. If Dad was to pay off the claims, Dad would insist on punishing Mackie. Would Jet or Ford let him do that? ... I didn't think so."
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."
- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012
And completed...
Ended up expanding that out into a full scene. Mostly to work in a line I'd wanted to add in earlier, but couldn't find a place.
Quote:Mackie found the sanctuary of his room in the old house and locked the door. And that’s where he stayed. He did his best to get that image out of his mind, but it just sat there - burned in. The interwave had been shut down to prioritise the convention.
He couldn’t even read to escape. Empty fanservice just didn’t have any attraction at the moment. All he could do was sit and wait to find out just how bad it was, while staring up at the model B-1 hanging above his bed. It remained dead still in the air. Life would’ve been easier if he’d never left the Knightwing. Considerably more boring, but if this was the alternative, definitely better. A draught of air caught the model and caused it to start to rotate slowly around on it’s wire hanger.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel outside. Mackie sat bolt-upright, listening for clues. He prayed it wasn’t someone with an article to write.
He lay back down and checked the time. It’d startled him to find it’d been over twelve hours since the accident. He’d already decided to pretend he wasn’t inside when the first knock on the door came. It occurred to him that maybe it was someone coming to deliver the bad news - only an asshole would give bad news by phone.
Another knock insisted.
Go away, he willed. He didn’t want to know
“S’me boy! I know you’re in there.”
Kohran?
She knocked for a third time, making it plainly clear that she wasn’t going away.
“Alright!”
He trudged down the stairs in his socks, taking a few moments to confirm that Kohran was alone. The front door gave an oaken creak as he opened it.
“Yeah?”
“Thought I might find you here.”
She sounded so cheerful it burned.
“Yeah,” he repeated sullenly. “You heard something about sis?”
He felt like the turkey asking what was so special about Christmas day.
“Nobody told you?”
Her shock was obvious. It was written across her face
“No.”
Maybe. It wasn’t possible
“Well. Last I heard, she was critical but stable - but that was an hour ago.”
I didn’t kill my own sister. The weight fell from his shoulders.
“Can I come in?” Asked Kohran.
“...uh.” Mackie nodded softly.
“Nice house,” Kohran commented. Mackie closed the door behind her. “Your Sister’s in good hands. I know Mom’s done work on her before. I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“I amn’t worrying. Not like that,” said Mackie. Not anymore anyway. In truth, not much after the first ten minutes. “ It’s just. When I was trapped in the computer system I awakened in, Jet would come and see me every day. She didn’t just leave me in the hanger alone, she tried to give me a good life. She did that for two years. As soon as Survival Shot got its first paying customer she used the cash to buy me this body from Vulpine Fury. And now....”
I almost killed them both. He couldn’t even say it.
“Ow.” Kohran winced visibly. She stood outside the living room, leaning back against the panelled wooden wall. Jet’s puppet was parked on the couch inside - inert and waiting while dressed for the anime panel. Mackie forced himself to look at Kohran, trying his hardest to ignore its lifeless stare.
"Well,” she continued. “I came up to say talked with Ford about all this, and we've come to an agreement. I'm paying one hundred credits as the rental charge for getting to ride the Highway Star for an hour. Well, less than an hour."
Mackie stared at her. "You helped save my life, and you're paying us?"
Kohran grinned warmly at him. "Saving lives is just the right thing to do. Getting to ride that bike was a thrill. You gotta learn the difference between what's important and what's fun." Seeing Mackie's expression on hearing that, she quickly added, "But I think you're starting to figure that one out. And sometimes they even overlap."
He glanced at the body behind her, still dead to the world.
“Thanks,” he said, forcing his gaze away from it once more. ”It’ll help cover the cost.”
“I guess Ford’s making you pay for the damages too?”
Her smile was kind. It soothed the pain.
He answered with a rueful smile of his own. “How’d you guess?”
She giggled. “Well, you’re not the first person to make a mess in a convention car park. An’ I don’t think you’ll be the last.”
--------
4 weeks later.
“Come in.”
This was going to be a tough appointment, and Eljay knew it. It’d already taken nearly a week of encouragement to get him to actually turn up. The door opened with a bell-chime, an apparent teenager stepping in. He wore the jacket of the Nekomi Motor Club, shuffling through the door with his hands in his pockets.
“So, how’ve you been, Mackie?”
Eljay tried to sound as if everything was normal - for the boy’s sake. It didn’t stop his eyes going wide as soon as he entered. Eljay couldn’t really blame him for that. The differences were so...up front. And that wasn’t even mentioning the reason why Mackie had a Vulpine Fury body in the first place.
“Fine. he said. His voice was smothered, like all the life had been sucked out of him somehow. “I’m sorry about what happened.”
VF smiled at him, trying to reassure him it was okay.
"You know how hard it is to find old-school modest outfits in my new size anymore?" VF sheepishly traced her hairline. "Don't mind the hair, though." She absently tugged at the hem of the knee-length skirt of her costume. “But if it matters, Apology accepted.”
Mackie blinked owlishly at her.
"So..... you're not.... mad about it?" he asked tentatively.
"Not your fault it turned out like this." A look of studious concentration crossed her face as she called the microscale waldoes to order on the workbench. "Heck, now I can roughhouse with Lime, and even survive one of her hugs like she used to give Karen. Excuse me." She sniffed daintily, emotion coloring her voice.
"Besides," she said, mastering herself. "I heard about the tongue lashings afterwards. Nah. It was only a matter of time before I got modded one way or another. I work with the stuff too much."
An impish smile crossed her face. "But now I can finally go to Disney World. This face isn't on their 'do not admit' board." She twisted her lips into a moue of disgust. "Good thing I don't smoke or drink though. I'd get carded for the rest of my life."
Mackie answered with a grateful smile. “Welcome to my world.”
"Right, let's see what wear and tear you have on your mimetics."
------
Being docked with a ‘workbench’ in Prometheus Forge wasn’t a new experience for Jet. It was all just a part of being a cyberpunk, really; relax and feel the lab hardware unite with her body. Connectors penetrated through opened armour panels, docking with her dataports. Warm currents flowed through her systems. Data needles intercepted nerve signals. Her schematics were displayed on a monitor opposite alongside her vital statistics, showing the full complexity of what she was and the modifications that’d been made.
A mirror showed a reflection of her body. Her breast panels had been taken off, along with parts of her legs including her engine cowlings.
Most of her actuators had been locked offline - a safety protocol in case of a stray signal. Jet also needed to be strapped down. She didn’t mind. It was a consequence of her unique nature. She could understand why it could feel like a waking nightmare for some new cybers, but for her it was a fact of life.
She could still turn her head to look over at A.C.’s bare back. A.C. was dressed in a skintight leotard - tight enough that Jet was having second thoughts about taking her up on the Shockskin offer. The puppet always just felt a little distant compared to real skin. It never really felt like the sensations it broadcast were a part of her.
One of the new interfaces woke up, detected her interest and decided to offer up a full sensor analysis of A.C. It began to insist on uncovering what was beneath the white leotard inspite of Jet’s effort to shut it up.
It was overlayed on top of - and simultaneously in parallel to - her natural eyesight, reporting intimate details straight to her mind.
“Stop that,” Jet hissed through her teeth at it.
“It’ll take time for the interface to get used to you, as much as it’ll take time for you to get used to the interface.”
The note of amusement in A.C’s voice was clear. One of the holo-windows surrounding her was gleefully reporting exactly what that particular software agent was looking at.
Besides, as often as she’d dreamed about popping open the armour and letting bare skin be caressed by a cool breeze the fact was that the armour had saved her life. It fractured on impact, dissipating the energy where Shockskin would just have been torn apart by the concrete.
It’d allowed her to save Mackie’s life. It was safe inside. Being naked against the world seemed terrifyingly risky, no matter how cybered she was underneath.
A.C. pulled up another feed from Jet’s body. Her green eyes stared at it, as she willed it to make sense. “I’m still trying to tie down this gap anomaly in your psychograph. It might be a sign of lingering neural damage, but there’s no biological signs. Synaptic fibres show normal signalling levels.”
She double checked something, humming to herself as it proved not to be the cause. Jet thought for a moment, debating with herself whether it was worth revealing or truth or not.
“No,” she said, figuring that it was better to say it now than after six hours of intensive diagnostics.“That might be Mackie.”
“Mackie?”
A.C. turned to face, showing that her leotard covered almost as little on the front aswell.
“Mackie awakened in the Knightwing’s computer. He awakened during a test of the datalink, while I was hooked up to the system. The system crashed then automatically restarted. It used the datalink as a boot device while I was still hooked up to it.”
She could see A.C’s mind working behind her green eyes, investigating the possible reasons and outcomes.
“It was interrupted halfway through by someone realising there was a problem and pulling the plug. Handwavium patched up the missing holes, with the end result being Mackie in a computer wondering how he got there and me wondering how my younger brother got into a computer.”
The implications were as obvious as they were unsettling.
“I can see why you didn’t tell anyone,” said A.C. after a moment’s contemplation.
“It’s better for him that nobody knows.” Jet answered. “I thought I’d gotten away with it until I looked at my ID card and wondered why there was an M beside my name.”
A.C quirked an eyebrow. “Memory damage?”
Jet smirked at her. “Mackie was born out of my manhood. Like I said, handwavium patched up the gaps with what was left.”
“That explains a lot.” A.C. said dryly. “The family resemblance can be striking sometimes.”
Jet momentarily recalled herself dancing through the wake vortices trailing behind Boeings, or playing games with the Air-Forces of Europe. That'd been a long time ago.
“Well. I think he’s learned a lesson anyway.”
“His recklessness nearly killed dozens of people, he’d be a fool not to. And dangerous if he didn’t care.”
“Well. The first thing he did when he went to VF for a checkup was apologise for what happened.” She was almost smiling with pride.
“Poor dear. The first few weeks are always the hardest. I’ve already sent her my best - and an offer of assistance.”
Jet snorted inspite of herself.
“My, My. Dirty minds.” A.C. chided gently, before grasping for another holo-window. “The new systems are integrating well. We can do a full combat system trial tomorrow.”
“It feels good to be back in one piece.” Jet clenched her hands tightly together, confirming it to herself. The new sensory pads answered with satisfying a burst of electric feedback. “The drone with the two power packs should get here anyway tomorrow. Though I still have no idea how you found out about it. ”
A.C. smiled impishly at her. “There’s a consortium working on reverse engineering gate-metal using original samples from Yggdrasil and Arcadia. One of the other members just happens to be Stellviacorp.”
“Shinji?”
“...Didn’t say a word about it.” A.C finished. “But once Prim Snowlight analysed the energy signature of his motoroid, he didn’t have to. It didn’t take a genius level intellect to look at where you’d been and join up the dots.”
“I should’ve guessed.” Jet muttered to herself.
“Well, The only question left is how much more you have to hand?”
“We’ve enough to use it for the KS hardware, with a good stock of spare parts. How much do you need?”
A.C. thought on it. “These two packs and another thirty kilograms. That will cover everything.”
Jet didn’t even give her face a chance to betray how much she really had.
“Sounds fair,” she nodded. “Lebia’s asked me to do that photoshoot thing with the puppet, so I’ll bring it in the chopper in a week.”
A.C. blinked. “You actually agreed to that?”
Jet couldn’t shrug her shoulders - she was still docked. “She helped save Mackie. I owe her that much.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t want help.” A.C. muttered, turning back to the holo-windows.
Jet could only thank her lucky stars. As much as it would make her look good, everyone has their limits.
------
And done. Thanks for all the help, commentary and assistance.
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?